


Crossed Wires

by TheGirlFromINVISIBLE



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-03-16 02:49:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 20,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3471587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlFromINVISIBLE/pseuds/TheGirlFromINVISIBLE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A multi-part series that picks up after the Agent Carter season finale in which Peggy realizes just how badly she handled her response to Daniel's drinks invitation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was late. 

Peggy Carter quietly closed the front door to her new apartment and shuffled tiredly down the long hallway. While her days and nights had been fairly chaotic for the past several months due to her involvement in The Stark Matter, the case was now officially closed… yet today was still an intensely emotionally draining day. In the morning, she was welcomed back to the SSR, having finally earned the recognition and respect of her co-workers, only to watch as Thompson took credit for most of her work in front of visiting government officials. Then, after work, she and her friend Angie moved into Howard Stark’s unused penthouse apartment after being evicted from their rooms at the Griffith Hotel. (Well, truth be told, Peggy was the only one actually evicted, but Angie’s friendship with Peggy had irreparably tainted Angie in Miriam Fry’s eyes, so Angie was coming along to escape Ms. Fry’s probation … as well as to take advantage of the posh digs and free rent). When they brought over their belongings earlier and Jarvis gave them the keys, Jarvis also gave Peggy the last remaining vial of Steve Rogers’ blood… that he had stolen from Howard Stark (who had stolen it from the SSR). And as much as part of Peggy wanted to chisel a new hole in the wall where she could store the vial and keep it safe and with her forever, she had to admit to herself that it hadn’t worked so well last time. So she took the last remaining piece of the man she loved to the Brooklyn Bridge and dumped it into the East River, hoping that the action would both prevent the blood from ever falling into the wrong hands and bring her closure for Rogers’ loss. 

When she reached the living room, Peggy slowly laid her purse and coat on a chair and crumbled onto the welcoming softness and warmth of the couch. She was in a half-fetal position against the left arm when Angie came bounding into the room. 

“Peg! You’re back! This place is amazing!” 

Upon seeing her friend’s tired form collapsed on the couch – not to mention her friend’s sad, lost expression – Angie quickly added, “Hey… Are you ok? Because you don’t look as excited as you should be for someone getting free rent in New York City.”

Peggy smiled ruefully and replied in a small voice, “It’s been a rather draining day.”

“At the phone company,” Angie smirked. 

“Yes. At the phone company.” 

Angie grabbed the full scotch decanter and two glasses from the bar in the corner of the room and deposited them on the coffee table, before taking a seat in a leather club chair next to the couch. Once seated, she poured two extremely generous glasses of scotch and handed one to Peggy. 

“Look, English, I know you can’t talk about your work, so I’m not even going to ask you – that’s part of the deal, right? But there had to be something good that happened to you today. I look at life this way… I can either be overwhelmed by the totality of everything that happens – a lot of which is bad – or I can focus on a few good things, not get overwhelmed, and just be happy. Granted, I’m a waitress – I don’t work at *the phone company* – but you should try it. Maybe it would help you put aside all those phone and downed wire emergencies you have to deal with everyday. Even just for a few hours.”

Peggy couldn’t help but chuckle at how Angie had embraced her cover job at “the phone company” as a sort of knowing code between them. If this was what having a best friend and roommate was going to be like – no, if this is what having Angie as a best friend and roommate was going to be like – it was going to be fun. Taking a sip of her scotch, Peggy considered her suggestion and responded, “That sounds like an interesting philosophy. I’ll try it.”

“It may not be Sartre,” Angie shrugged, “but it works for me. Now… here’s what you do – you have to tell me three good things that happened today. Of course, in your case, they should probably also be non-classified.”

“Ok, then,” Peggy began, as she sat up on the couch and began to mentally survey – and edit -- her day. “Item number 1: This morning, when I arrived at work, the majority of my co-workers -- who previously treated me like their secretary -- stood and clapped for me in recognition of my achievements on our recent case.”

Angie began clapping, “Peg, that’s so great! Congratulations! This could be a real turning point for you. Maybe they’ll even hire a real secretary!” She took a gulp of her scotch and pointed at Peggy’s glass, “Oh, and I forgot to mention… you have to take a drink for each point.” 

Peggy gave her an “Oh, ok” look before gulping back more scotch. 

“So number 2,” Angie prompted.

“Yes, ok. Item number 2.” Peggy thought for a moment and then began, “Well, after being thrown out on my ear at the Griffith by Ms. Fry, I’ve found replacement housing that is by all accounts more-than-adequate for my needs – “

“And rent free!” Angie interrupted, clinking their glasses.

“… And rent free,” Peggy repeated, smiling. “And I’m incredibly fortunate that my best friend has decided to also leave the Griffith on such short notice and accept my invitation to be roommates.”

“Awwww, Peg! That’s so sweet!” Angie gave her a quick hug, before adding in mock disbelief, “But do you really think I’d pass this up? Besides, the Griffith was really starting to go downhill. It got raided the other day… and there were men above the first floor!”

Peggy laughed.

“And,” Angie continued, “Let’s not forget that this place is rent free!” 

At the mention of “rent free,” Angie once again clinked glasses with Peggy, before adding, “You forgot to drink.” Peggy dutifully took another mouthful of scotch.

“You’re doing great, English… you’re in the home stretch now. So what’s your number three?”

“Number 3… number 3… ,” Peggy slowly repeated.

Angie sat in anticipation of the next point, but it wasn’t forthcoming. Instead, Peggy sat staring at and twirling the now half-empty glass of scotch in her hands. 

“Peg, come on,” Angie goaded, “I need your number three.”

Peggy remained quiet for a few more moments, before matter-of-factly mumbling, “I’m afraid.” 

“You’re afraid of number three?” Angie asked.

“No,” Peggy shook her head but then stopped. “I mean, yes. Well, in a manner of speaking, yes.”

“You've lost me here, Peg. What is number three?”

Peggy downed the remainder of the scotch in her glass and placed it on the coffee table. Angie began refilling it.

“Daniel…” Peggy began slowly. “He asked me out this morning.”

Angie shrieked with such glee that she forgot she was refilling Peggy’s glass, which then began overflowing. “Daniel? The nice one? The one that you like? That’s so great, Peg! I’m so happy for you! Wait… why are you afraid of him?”

“I’m not afraid of *him*... it’s just that, due to… certain past circumstances in my personal life, I’ve not really thought about having a relationship with anyone for a long time. I certainly wasn’t expecting his invitation, but, now, the more I think about it, the more I think that maybe it’s something that I would like to consider. I do like Daniel. He’s respectful, kind, intelligent, a good… uh, telephone company employee, he’s brave, and chivalrous without being patronizing. He’s also been my only friend and supporter at the office. But it’s just … something that frightens me. Honestly, Angie, I can defend myself against an entire room full of armed men, but I don’t know how to have a relationship with one. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Angie handed her the overflowing scotch glass with a gesture indicating that she should drink. “I don’t really see a problem here, English -- you're just overthinking it. He likes you, you like him… you just have to start spending time with each other and letting each other see that you like each other. It’s really that simple. When are you going out? Where are you going? What did he say when he asked you out?”

“Well, there’s nothing planned currently,” Peggy explained, “He said he was going out for a drink after work and asked if I wanted to join him. I answered truthfully… I told him I couldn’t because I had to meet a friend – that was you, after work, here – and maybe another time. I noticed that he even left his crutch at his desk, and he walked over to me without it. It was all so very sweet.”

Angie’s jaw dropped, and she looked at Peggy in sheer disbelief. “Whoa. Hold it right there. He left his crutch at his desk, walked over to you without it, asked you out, and you told him no?”

“I did not tell him no," Peggy snapped as she looked at Angie like she was crazy. "Admittedly, he caught me off-guard so the conversation was a bit of a blur, but I do believe my response was that I had to meet a friend and another time, maybe. That’s not ‘no.’ Why would you say that’s a ‘no’?”

“Oh, Peg…. Ohhhhh, Peg…” Angie shook her head in disbelief as she stood and paced several times back and forth in the living room. Then, she stopped as if a lightbulb went on over her head, and she walked over to the bar. 

At the bar, she turned to face Peggy, and exclaimed, “Welcome to Angie’s School of Acting, and, right now, we’re going to do a little acting exercise. You,” Angie said, pointing at Peggy, “are Daniel, and I am you. Go stand by your -- Daniel’s -- desk … wherever that would be. Come on. Up. Go.”

Peggy, simultaneously confused and intrigued, stood up and walked over to the club chair. 

“Now remember,” Angie directed, “you’re Daniel. You’re a sweet guy, you lost part of your leg in the war, you get no respect from your co-workers, and your only real friend in the office is you. Or me. You know what I mean. Anyway, take a moment to get into your character.”

After a few moments, Angie asked, “Are you ready? And, remember, you have to put your crutch down and walk to me.”

“This is silly,” Peggy said. 

“Just humor me. Annnnnnnnnnnd action!”

Peggy pretended to put the crutch down and then did a sort of hop-walk over to Angie. 

“Uh, Angie… Sorry, I mean, Peggy,” she began.

“Yes, Daniel,” Angie replied in an incredibly bad English accent. Peggy began to laugh, only to be silenced when Angie ordered, “English! Stop laughing – I’m trying to help you! This is as serious as a heart attack."

Peggy coughed back her laughter and re-established herself into character. “Uh, so Peggy, I was going to get a drink after work and was wondering if you’d like to join me?”

In her best taken-off-guard, put-on-the-spot, non-committal (but non-British-accented) voice, Angie replied, “Oh… uh, I have to meet a friend... Another time, maybe.”

Peggy’s hand immediately went to her mouth and she recoiled. “Oh my god, Angie, he thought I meant no! He thought I meant no!”

“See?!” Angie exclaimed. “See?!”

Peggy sank back down onto the couch and downed her new glass of scotch. By this point, the effects of the drink were taking firm hold. “My goodness, aren’t I just a complete mess of a woman?”

Angie sat back down in the club chair and looked seriously at her friend.

“I’ll tell you this much… for people who work at the phone company, you two sure got your wires crossed.”

Peggy buried her head in her hands and groaned.

“Don’t worry, English,” Angie said, patting Peggy’s shoulder. “We can fix this. But let’s get one thing straight for this friendship...”

Peggy looked up and Angie continued, “As your best friend, I will NOT be the cause of you blowing off a date with a great guy that you like ever again. Are we absolutely clear?”


	2. Chapter 2

Peggy Carter’s head felt like… the effects of one of Howard Stark’s inventions.

Although she had been able to hold more than her share of liquor during the war, now, during peacetime, her tolerance was vastly curtailed. She rationalized it with the assertion that she needed to maintain a clear mind for her job, but, in reality, it had been a while since she had friends with whom she could drink, and, really, if she was being completely honest, drinking just… brought back memories. Memories that, oftentimes, were much better left unremembered. 

Additionally, there was the small matter of how drinking made her feel. Which, at the moment, was not a small matter, but a very large one. About the size of Big Ben.

Repeatedly chiming twelve o’clock inside her skull. 

With eyes squinting from a combination of grogginess and un-bloody-believable pain, Peggy slowly swung her legs to the side of the bed and turned on the bedside lamp. She picked up the small alarm clock and tried to focus on it. 

It was 3:37am.

She grabbed the bedpost to steady herself and attempted to stand. Wobbling, she mentally cursed alcohol and herself -- but mostly just herself -- for the fact that she was still drunk, and she plopped back down onto the bed. Noticing two small pills on the nightstand, she eagerly swallowed them, along with the full glass of water that sat nearby. 

Howard would absolutely adore knowing that this was how she was spending her first night in his house. 

It had all started innocently enough. Peggy was telling Angie, her new roommate, about the good things that had happened during her day. Angie, however, had mischievously turned the conversation into a drinking game – Peggy noted that she would have to watch that one very carefully moving forward -- so with Peggy’s anxiety and eventual mortification about Point Number Three, the next thing Peggy knew, she had downed several glasses of scotch in quick succession and was three-Howard-Stark-luxury-penthouse-silk-sheets-to-the-New-York-City-March-in-like-a-lion-wind.

All because of Point Number Three.

Oh, Point Number Three.

In long-hand, “Point Number Three” had come to mean Daniel Sousa, her co-worker, asking her out for a drink. By itself, it caused Peggy plenty of anxiety, because she really liked Daniel, she was trying to move on from her not-quite-relationship with Steve Rogers, and the whole situation just generally made her feel scared, vulnerable, and off-balance. 

And Peggy Carter did not do scared. Or vulnerable. 

And she tried very hard to avoid off-balance.

If all of that wasn’t bad enough, Angie then proceeded to inform Peggy that, instead of conveying to Daniel that she was open to the idea but just couldn’t go at the proposed time due to a prior commitment (as Peggy thought she had done), her response actually translated into “no.” 

So now, in addition to scared, vulnerable, and off-balance, she felt simply *awful*.

No wonder Daniel hadn’t said goodnight to her tonight. And no wonder, when they were both getting ready to leave at the same time, he suddenly remembered something that he forgot to file and disappeared into the filing room.

It all made perfect sense now.

He was embarrassed and any number of other unpleasant emotions… all because of her. 

She felt like an idiot. She felt like a defective woman who shouldn’t be allowed to talk to other people. She felt *cruel*. 

It would have been one thing if she wasn’t interested in Daniel – she ruefully guessed the good thing about this whole episode was that it showed her that she definitely was – but Daniel was so sweet and kind and such a good friend and agent. Now, because of her daft insensitivity and her pre-occupation with all of her personal drama, at best, she hurt him horribly and, at worst, she blew her chance with him. And both of those outcomes made her physically sick. 

On top of her already churning, alcohol-sopped stomach.

She wasn’t quite sure how she was going to fix it.

It was a shame, really -- she had actually been a lot more confident in her problem solving skills last night after her third glass of scotch when she got the brilliant idea that she would just call Daniel and sort the whole nasty business out once and for all. But then Angie, who had followed her into her bedroom to make sure she had aspirin and water, caught her starting to dial his number and promptly confiscated Peggy’s telephone – along with every other telephone in the apartment – and locked them in her room.

And Peggy was in no shape to pick a lock.  


For once, she really didn’t know what she was going to do.


	3. Chapter 3

Daniel Sousa screamed and shot upwards into a sitting position. He anxiously searched the darkness of the room while the beads of sweat that covered his brow salted and burned his eyes. Wiping away the sweat with the back of his hand, he refocused on the room. Everything was still.

“Just the dream again,” he thought as he dropped heavily back down onto the bed with a sigh that was simultaneously exasperated and relieved. 

The dream. 

The Dream.

At this point in his life, The Dream was his frequent – and only – nighttime visitor, and he could count on it making an appearance at least once per night -- if he was lucky. If he was unlucky… well, the to-date record stood at thrice. Needless to say, he didn’t get much sleep that night.

Between The Dream and his upstairs neighbor, a burley Irish bartender who worked, most nights, until 4am and never learned the fine art of How To Walk Quietly On Hardwood Floors At Night Or At Any Other Time, Daniel was generally awakened several times a night. As there was nothing he could do about The Dream (or so they told him), his upstairs neighbor was generally a good guy, and Daniel could only imagine – with his prosthesis and crutch -- what HE sounded like to HIS downstairs neighbors, Daniel did the best he could under the circumstances. He somehow still managed to get more sleep than he ever did in the army, and, at least now, he was clean, warm, and safe… even if The Dream tricked him into believing otherwise for a few moments each night. 

Daniel rubbed his eyes a bit more and then – as quietly as he was able – hobbled to the bathroom. He splashed some cold water onto his face to wash away the sweat and stared at himself in the mirror above the sink. Only then did it hit him. 

"I asked Peggy out this morning."

"And she said 'no.'" 

He groaned at the recollection and splashed three more handfuls of cold water onto his face.

In fairness, he thought, as he quietly made his way back to the bed, she hadn’t actually said “no,” but she was obviously caught off-guard, and when she mumbled something about having to meet a friend followed by a non-committal “another time,” she may as well have said “no.” Replaying the scene a few more times in his head, Daniel noted that he would have taken that response as a “no” even if he had two legs.

And it broke his heart. Because he had it bad for Peggy Carter. 

Baaaaaaaad.

Since returning from the war, there hadn’t been a whole lot of joy in his life. It had been a long, frustrating road trying to adapt to his injury -- just trying to re-learn how to do things that he had done practically all his life. Forget about luxuries like playing baseball or dancing or spending the day on the beach at Coney Island … getting to the restroom, buying food, and cooking a meal were challenges enough. His high-school sweetheart visited him twice in the VA hospital before informing him that she had taken up with their mutual friend, a decorated bomber pilot with two legs and an impending law degree (and, as it turns out, she only visited him twice because she lost her nerve to tell him all that during the first visit). At the other side of the spectrum, his family had been supportive and accommodating, but it quickly became *too much* – Daniel could see the pity flickering in their eyes as they insisted on doing every little thing for him, day in and day out, and, finally, after six months of living in their Flatbush home, he couldn’t take it anymore and moved out. (But not before an epic argument in which his mother labeled him “ungrateful” and his father told him he would be “alone” without his parents because he would “never get a girl”). 

He knew that his parents were just looking out for him and trying to help and protect him, but… *thanks, Pop.*

Everything had become so… bleak. 

But then, one day, Peggy Carter walked into the SSR. 

To be sure, she was absolutely beautiful, and Daniel was immediately physically attracted to her… but, as he got to know her, he saw that she was so much more. 

Smart. 

Funny. 

Kind. 

Caring.

Confident.

Poised.

Loyal.

A good colleague.

And a much better agent than the rest of them combined. 

Daniel had never met anyone else like her, and, despite the often cruel and dismissive way he was treated by most of the rest of his colleagues, he couldn’t wait to get to work in the morning. And the walk to work? It was no longer a chore. Sure, his prosthesis was still painful, and the blocks-long walk was still tiring, but he noticed that the birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and there was startling beauty in the mundane street scenes that surrounded him. Once again, there was joy in his life. And he was in love.

Except now, he thought as he dropped his head into his hands, he had to go and ruin it all by asking her out. 

"What were you thinking, Daniel? What were you thinking? You just HAD to go and ask her out… and, big surprise, she said “no.” Just like Kozminsky said she would, just like Pop said she would. What were you even thinking? Now everything is going to be awkward and weird and your treasured friendship – the one good thing you have going, the one good thing that brought you an ounce of happiness – is going to be ruined. All because you somehow got it into your thick head that it would be a good idea to ask out Captain America’s girl. What were you even thinking??"

He sat for another moment mentally berating himself, but then his thoughts shifted to daydreams of what might have been: the drink with Peggy, making her dinner in his small kitchen, sharing popcorn at a Dodgers game, and a ride on the Wonder Wheel in Coney Island at sunset. 

Quickly, he shook his head to erase the images from his mind. None of that mattered now, because Peggy said “no” to his invitation, and if ever there was a woman who knew what she wanted and could take care of herself, it was Peggy Carter. He had no choice but to respect her answer and not ask her again.

Even if it meant that his heart was now as shattered as his leg.

Daniel sighed and looked at the clock… it was 3:45am. His upstairs neighbor would be home from work soon, so there was no point trying to go back to sleep yet. Plus, for once, he wasn’t particularly interested in speeding the night’s passage so he could get to work. 

Daniel turned on his bedside lamp, picked up his copy of L’Etre Et Le Neant, and began to read.


	4. Chapter 4

Angie watched from her seat at the kitchen table as Peggy shuffled slowly and somberly into the kitchen. Although both were dressed and ready for another day of work, there was something definitely “off” about Peggy’s appearance -- her hair was coiffed, her dress was pressed, and her make-up was perfectly applied … yet, somehow, she looked like she had been hit by a bus.

“Top o’ the morning to you, English… how are you feeling?” Angie smirked cheerfully yet somewhat cautiously.

Peggy pulled a bottle of orange juice from the icebox, sat down across from Angie at the kitchen table, and groaned.

Angie eyed her with quiet amusement for several moments before she slowly and deliberately slid a previously concealed bottle of aspirin across the table. “I’d apologize for my part in the way you’re feeling, but I think you probably needed it.” 

Peggy grabbed the aspirin bottle like she had just found the first Enigma code machine and quickly downed three pills. “Thank you, Angie,” she grumbled, “You’re a true mate.” 

“I do what I can,” Angie shrugged innocently, taking another bite of food from her plate. “By the way, there’s eggs and sausage on the stove if you want some.” 

Peggy grimaced at the thought of food, eating, and/or putting anything more than the orange juice she was holding and aspirin – that sweet, sweet elixir -- into her stomach ever again. “Thank you… I’m sure it’s absolutely wonderful, but… I-I just can’t… right now.”

Taking her cup in both hands, with both elbows on the table, Angie took several sips of coffee while continuing to stare at Peggy with growing concern. “So did you manage to get any sleep last night?”

“I think I may have passed out for a few hours, but then I woke up around 3:30, and all I could think about was Daniel and how badly I mucked everything up … I didn’t get much sleep after that.”

Peggy watched her finger trace the top of her orange juice glass. “I feel awful, Angie. It would be one thing if I wasn’t interested, but that’s not the case. I realized last night that Daniel’s distant behavior throughout the day yesterday was most likely attributable to my response, and, if that’s the case, he must be hurt and embarrassed. All because of me. All because I’m just a bloody fool.”

“Peg,” Angie began as she put her coffee cup down and reached for Peggy’s arm, “I told you last night that we’d fix this, and we will.”

“But what if we can’t? What if Daniel no longer wants anything to do with me, and I’ve lost my only chance?”

The concern in Angie’s face gave way to a devilish smile. “I never told you about my last boyfriend, did I?” At Peggy’s head nod to the negative, she continued. “He was a young lawyer at one of those fancy Wall Street firms – he came into the Automat all the time, and I tell you, Peg – my heart actually fluttered every time he walked in the door. He was always nice enough, but he never paid me much attention. Anyway… so you know how with those jobs the partners dump all the work on the associates, and then the associates have to work around the clock to do everything? One day, he’s sitting in a booth with all these marked-up documents spread out around him – like it’s some big deal he’s working on or something -- and I go over to refill his coffee. Just as I’m pouring it, he looks up at me and smiles the most grateful and sadly beautiful smile I’ve ever seen, and I got so flustered that I spilled a pot full of scalding hot coffee all over his documents and- ” Angie grimaced, “the front of his pants.”

Peggy gasped. “You didn’t!”

“Yep… I really did,” Angie continued. “He screamed in pain at his injury for a few minutes, and then, when that stopped, he screamed in pain for a few more because all his work was ruined. He hadn’t slept for three days and then he had to stay up all night the fourth re-doing everything. I figured he hated me and that I’d never see him again, but then they closed the deal, and he asked me out. Unlike you and Daniel, I didn’t even know the guy, and he got over it!”

“How long did you see him?” Peggy asked, thankful for an opportunity to finally shift the conversation away from herself and her alcohol consumption.

“Oh, just a few months,” Angie waved her hand dismissively. “It eventually just petered out. He was a lawyer, so he was kind of dull and he worked all the time. I didn’t date him long enough to see if there was any physical damage, if ya know what I mean.”

Peggy choked on a mouthful of orange juice. 

Taking note of her reaction, Angie, after a beat, mischievously added, “Hey, Peg – so, uh… there’s a question… you know how they say that if you lose one of your senses, the others get stronger? Do you think since Daniel lost part of one of his lower extremities-- ”

“Angie!” Peggy hissed, incredulous and blushing, before Angie could finish vocalizing the thought. 

Angie began laughing. “Oh, English, you’re going to be such a FUN roommate. And just think… you’ll have me to thank when you spend all day thinking about THAT when you see him instead of obsessing about how he must hate you.” She then slyly bit into a link of her breakfast sausage and watched as Peggy’s face grew even redder. 

Flapped, the unflappable Peggy Carter stood up and grabbed her purse. “Right… Because that’s certainly not equally awkward. On that note, I am off to work.” 

As Peggy reached the kitchen door, Angie called after her. “Peg… seriously though…” With all traces of joking and teasing gone from Angie’s voice, Peggy paused to look at her and listen. “Three things before you go. One – for stuff that matters, honesty always works best. Just talk to him… tell him what you’re thinking. You guys both work for The Phone Company, so you don’t have to keep any secrets from each other. Two – Just don’t do it today. I love you, but, hon, you look like hell. And three – ” Angie, no longer serious, began fluttering her eyes and making kissy faces, “give my wuv to your boyfwend!”

Peggy rolled her eyes and mumbled, “You are horrible” before walking out of the kitchen … only to return a moment or two later, head held high, to stuff the aspirin bottle into her purse. As she turned on her heel and headed back out the door, Angie laughed and called after her, “See you tonight, English! We’ll pick out a dress for you to wear tomorrow!”


	5. Chapter 5

Unlike Glenn Miller (at least when he was alive), Peggy Carter simply was not In The Mood.

For a multitude of reasons. 

Physically, although reduced, at this point, to a dull throb, her head *hurt*. Her stomach was a witches’ brew of nausea, she was working on only a few hours of sleep, and her morning started with her best friend telling her that she “looked like hell.” On the emotional side, things were just as dire. She was upset about Daniel perceiving her answer to his drinks invitation as an unintended “no,” angry at herself for needlessly causing him to feel hurt and embarrassed, and worried that she had irreparably damaged their friendship (as well as any other potential type of relationship between them). Unfortunately, given that the only cure for her screaming hang-over was time and that she appreciated Angie’s point about not trying to fix things with Daniel in her present state, there was absolutely nothing Peggy could do about any of it today.

Which just made her irritable on top of everything else. 

Walking into the SSR offices, she marveled at how much things could change in a day. Yesterday, when she arrived, all of her male colleagues stood and clapped in recognition of her work on the Stark case. Today, they took note of her arrival again, but for entirely different reasons. 

But Peggy Carter did not care. 

She was simply not in the mood. 

For any of it.

Head held high, she strode, with determination, past the rows of her colleagues’ desks as they just… stared. Although she was normally confident, today she affected an over-abundance of it as a means to compensate for how bad she felt and looked … which she guessed anyone with a basic knowledge of human psychology – i.e., everyone in the office -- could pick up on. 

But, again? 

She. Did. Not. Care.

But there were a handful of things that she did care about. 

She cared about how she felt Daniel’s eyes following her across the floor as she made her way to her desk. She cared about the fact that those eyes -- and his expression -- seemed strangely cold and distant. She cared about how he didn’t say “Good morning” to her as she passed his desk. And she cared about how, when she arrived at her desk, he quickly became disinterested with her presence and turned back to the stack of papers he had been reading. 

And she cared about those things a lot.

Given the way she physically felt, it was going to be really difficult for her to get through the day. But it was going to be even more difficult for her to get through the day without trying to talk to Daniel. 

As Peggy stood over her desk looking through the mail and files in her Inbox, acting Chief Jack Thompson noticed her arrival and emerged from his glass-paned office.

“Carter, do you have the research I asked for regarding Dottie Underwood’s known associates?”

With that, Daniel turned to follow the conversation, as he had assisted in the research. 

“Yes, Agent Thompson. Agent Sousa and I worked on it yesterday -- I’ll have it to you before lunch.”

“Thanks.” Thompson turned to return to his desk, but then stopped. 

“Rough night, Carter?” he obnoxiously and inappropriately commented. “You look like hell.” 

While, previously, a statement like that would have elicited muffled office-wide laughter at her expense, this time, the effect was that of a silent, collectively gasp and the office became so quiet that Peggy could hear the soft grinding of the mechanism in the time clock. 

“Well, then, Agent Thompson,” she replied sharply, dropping the pile of mail and files onto her desk and turning to face him, “I guess then it’s extremely fortunate that you are more than willing to meet with any government officials who may visit in order to take credit for my work.”

Suddenly, the muffled office-wide laughter she knew so well returned … only this time, Thompson was the butt of the joke. She had effectively just neutered the Chief.

And She. Did. Not. Care. 

(And, really, what was he going to do? Fire her? She was the one who made him look good).

Thompson’s face grew red and, without speaking, he turned and slithered back into his office. 

As Peggy went back to sorting through the contents of her Inbox, she felt Daniel’s gaze linger on her for a moment, and then, once again, turn away. 

Without a word.


	6. Chapter 6

Peggy Carter had waited all day for this moment.

Sinking into the luxuriously warm bubble bath, she was finally able to relax after an exceptionally awful day that involved an almost unyielding hang-over, a mere two hours’ worth of sleep, and, most uncomfortable of all, Daniel’s cold shoulder. 

But now, except for Point Number Three -- it always came back to Point Number Three, didn’t it? -- none of that mattered. She was here… locked in her en suite bathroom – or, as she mentally referred to it, her Safe Room – hiding from the world. 

Because, sometimes, Peggy needed to feel hidden.

She wasn’t sure why, or what long-buried trauma so compelled her, but, sometimes, she took great comfort in being alone, in an internal room behind at least two locks, completely inaccessible, with her whereabouts unknown to most or (preferably) all others. 

In fact, in the not-so-distant past, being in such a room had saved her life. 

Fortunately, now, it was just helping her to decompress. 

As she lulled hazily in the bubbly water – she had foregone the glass of wine tonight for obvious reasons – Peggy reflected on the events of the day. 

Work had been fairly uneventful apart from her verbal vivisection of acting Chief Thompson in front of the entire office. She almost – almost -- felt badly about that, because, normally, she wasn’t one to let her personal issues or circumstances interfere with her work. (If she was being honest with herself, the only reason she failed to hold her tongue this time was because she was hung-over, tired, and irritable). While part of her was embarrassed by her actions, another part of her believed that they would go a long way to finally establishing some behavioral boundaries for Thompson. After all, he was, fundamentally, a person who cared very much about what others thought of him and his abilities. Peggy knew a lot of his secrets -- his wartime deception, that it was her work that enhanced his image in the Stark case, and that, in actuality, he had spent a large part of his “action” time in said case lying on the floor. 

At best, Thompson was nothing more than a moderately capable agent with a toy magician kit’s smoke and mirrors. At worst, he was a fraud. 

He knew it, she knew it, and he knew that she knew it. 

Calling him out in front of the office in the strongest yet most limited, narrowly tailored way had been a warning shot across his bow, and she didn’t expect any further issues with him.

Daniel, on the other hand, was a completely different story. 

For the second day in a row, he barely looked at her or spoke to her unless absolutely necessary, and he spent the bulk of the day hiding in the filing room. 

Peggy smiled to herself…. So Daniel liked to hide, too. It would be so nice if, someday, they could hide together. 

But that would depend on tomorrow’s conversation.

Angie had taken to referring to it as The Conversation – capital “T” capital “C” – and prior to Peggy’s bath, they spent a half hour or more going through Peggy’s closet so Angie could advise her regarding what outfit to wear. Although Peggy was certainly more than capable of dressing herself, Angie insisted – it was for The Conversation! -- and the next thing Peggy knew, Angie was standing in front of her closet throwing her dresses, skirts, and blouses all over the bed. 

At one point, Angie found Howard’s sexy nurse outfit. Peggy laughed out loud as she recalled Angie pulling it out of the closet and holding it up with an expression that was equal parts shocked, amused, and revolted before asking, “Uh, English? Does The Phone Company have you doing service calls?”

Needless to say, Peggy had a lot of quick explaining to do, but, by this point, she was used to that where Howard was involved. 

But things quickly devolved from there.

Although Angie’s first inclination had been that Peggy’s outfit for The Conversation should be a dress, she ultimately directed Peggy to wear her navy blue A-line skirt and jacket, along with her light blue blouse with the bow in the front because it would incentivize Daniel with, in Angie’s words, “the thought that someday maybe he can untie the bow.” 

In what Peggy was quickly learning was Angie’s modus operandi – i.e., following an embarrassing thought or statement with one that was even more embarrassing – Angie added, “So, English, really… how many dates before you let him untie the bow?” 

Peggy blushed at the recollection and noted that, since moving in with Angie a mere 24 hours earlier, her face had spent more time than a paint chart displaying the color red. She had responded to Angie’s question the only way she could – by hiding behind mock outrage and informing her roommate “I am not discussing that with you, Angie!” before kicking Angie out of her room so she could start her bath.

But Angie wasn’t done. 

After Peggy closed and locked her bedroom door and turned towards her dresser, Angie called from the other side of the door, “You’re gonna change your mind about that in a couple of weeks, English! I bet you dinner and a movie -- loser buys!”

Laughing to herself, Peggy yelled back, “Deal! I should inform you that you’ll be treating me to that new Cary Grant film… ‘Notorious,’ I believe it’s called.” 

Feeling very satisfied with herself at the fact that, this time, she seemed to wrest control of the conversation away from Angie and Angie’s attempts to embarrass her, Peggy opened her dresser drawer and removed her nightwear in preparation for her bath… 

… Only to hear Angie respond through the door, “Cary Grant? He’s yummy. Hey, English! Daniel actually kind of looks like him… I’m going to call him ‘Cary Grant’ from now on!”

Apparently, there was no controlling a conversation with Angie Martinelli.

Back in the present, Peggy turned the on the warm water tap to heat up her bath. She wasn’t done hiding yet.


	7. Chapter 7

The heavy rain stung his entire body like a non-stop barrage of shrapnel as Daniel Sousa turned the corner and hobbled down a flight of steps from street-level to a basement door. The steps were steep and short, which made navigating them a minor challenge even without the umbrella that he attempted to hold in his non-crutch-laden arm. When he reached the bottom, the rain continued its drenching effect as he fought, with the one hand, to close the umbrella and open the door. Once successful, he used his other hand on the crutch to propel himself quickly inside. 

Daniel stood inside the door for an extended moment, dripping with rain with his arms extended outward, but unable to satisfactorily (or otherwise) shake out the rain due to the fact that both of his hands were full. Just as he began a water-logged slog to the small coat check booth to his left, a beautiful young African-American woman emerged from the booth to help him.

“Evening, Daniel,” she greeted him warmly. “Oh, dear … it looks like you got caught in the rain! Here, let me help you with your things.” She took his umbrella and helped him remove his dripping, saturated coat. 

“Thanks so much, Dianne,” he replied gratefully. “I was two blocks away when it started… it went from drizzle to… this… in a few seconds.”

“Two blocks from your destination is definitely not where you want to be when that happens. At least it seems like April might be coming early this year!” 

Dianne took Daniel’s coat and umbrella into the coat check area and handed him a small numbered hanger tag. He put the tag into his pocket and placed a dollar into her tip jar. 

“Thanks so much, Daniel,” she smiled, “Have a good night.”

“You, too. Thanks again, Dianne.”

Leaving the coat check, Daniel walked back the long, thin hallway to the presently unattended host’s station, where the space opened into a dark, smoky, medium-sized room with low ceilings. Directly behind the host’s station, along the room’s back wall, was a bar. Red leather semi-circular booths lined the room’s sides, while white-clothed tables filled its center. At the front of the room – its focal point – was a stage from which a jazz sextet laid down a cool, mellow groove. Tonight – a Tuesday night – the room’s mixed-race audience was only at 1/3 capacity. 

Daniel stood at the host’s station for a moment, watching the band and absorbing their sound. His trance was only broken when a voice called out, “And there he is… the Cat With Three Legs!”

Daniel turned to see an African-American gentleman, around Daniel’s age, coming towards him with an extended hand and a huge smile on his face. 

“Whaddya say, gate?” the gentleman continued enthusiastically, “Where you been? I haven’t seen you for a week and a half!”

“Hi Antoine,” Daniel grinned widely as they shook hands and Antoine patted him on the back. “Big project at work. Things were really crazy for a while.”

Antoine gave him a sideways, skeptical look. “At the phone company? Mmmm hmmm…”

In an obviously obvious attempt to quickly change the topic of conversation, Daniel pointed at the band and exclaimed, “Great band tonight!”

“Yeah,” Antoine answered. “I was hoping you wouldn’t miss this one. The kid on the trumpet – Miles – he’s been playing with Charlie Parker’s quintet uptown. I think he’s got a great sound of his own, though. He could definitely end up a leader. And soon, too.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Daniel agreed. “Is this the first time he’s played for you?”

“Nah, he was here once before… about a month or two ago, but I think I’m gonna have to have him back more frequently. This is sounding real good to me. Real good.”

Just then, a couple emerged from the entrance hallway. Daniel motioned to the bar and said, “Hey Antoine, I’m going to go sit at the bar. Talk to you later.”

“Right on, Daniel… catch you in a bit,” Antoine replied as he grabbed two drinks menus and turned his attention toward the couple.

Daniel walked over the bar. As he took a seat on the stool at the far end and set about disposing of his crutch, the bartender slid him a scotch on the rocks. 

“Thanks so much, Charlie.” 

Drink in hand, Daniel turned around on the stool to watch the band. 

Several minutes later, Antoine plopped down on the barstool next to Daniel and motioned for Charlie to bring him a drink. 

“So that couple I left you to seat? Man, they were some crazy cats … didn’t even have them to the booth and their hands were all over each other. I tell you, Daniel, there’s a reason I chose leather for the upholstery here.” 

Daniel smirked and swallowed hard. 

“Speaking of which, when am I gonna get to give you a leather booth? Why don’t you ever bring a girl here?”

Daniel made an exaggerated grimace into his drink.

“Unless, of course,” Antoine continued, eyeing him closely, “You’re no longer into that, which is cool -- after all, this is the Village, we love everybody… at least as long as they’re cool. You know, I’d still give you a booth if you wanted to bring ... ”

“Hey, Antoine,” Daniel blushed and interrupted him, “I still like girls, ok?” He pointed to his crutch and added, in a small voice, “They just don’t like me anymore.” 

Antoine stared at him incredulously, for a moment unable to speak. “Are you kidding me? No, Daniel, I KNOW you have GOT to be kidding me for a whole lot of reasons, but, for the moment, I’m just going to focus on the most obvious one … which is that is just plain NUTS. Sure… there may be some girls who wouldn’t like you anymore, but those aren’t the ones you would want anyway. Man, seriously? You’ve got SO MUCH going for you … you’re a good-looking guy, you’re a snappy dresser – no one I know can pull it all together with a sweater vest like you can, you’ve got a job, you have excellent taste in music, and you are a close personal friend of MINE. I ask you… what is there not to love?”

Daniel shrugged quietly and took another drink.

“Hey…” Antoine continued, “Remember last fall when that carload of drunken fraternity Jeffs from Yale missed their exit for midtown and ended up here? First, they started harassing Dianne, and then they started on that table of college girls? After you helped me run them out of here, half of the table was making googly eyes at you. Are you telling me you didn’t notice that?”

Daniel shrugged again and took several drinks in quick succession.

Antoine stared at him for several more moments before his face began to light up with the light bulb of recognition. “Wait a minute… THAT’s what it is… you LIKE someone!” 

Daniel began blushing again and shifted uncomfortably on the stool. “Antoine, don’t you have to go watch the door or something?”

“Go watch the door? Go watch the door?” Antoine recoiled in mock outrage. “I’ll have you know that I OWN this establishment. And if the President of the United States walked in here right now, I STILL wouldn’t leave this chair until you told me. EVERYTHING.”

Daniel laughed, “And you mean that, don’t you?”

“How long have we known each other … what do you think? See, I need all the details, because I’m gonna make it my personal project to get the Cat With Three Legs his girl. So tell me.”

“It’s this woman at work,” Daniel mumbled quietly into the bar. 

“What’s that? I CAN’T HEAR YOU, DANIEL,” Antoine commanded.

“It’s this woman at work,” Daniel grudgingly restated more loudly (although still with his head lowered towards the bar). “Peggy. She’s beautiful and smart and incredible in every possible way. I… I’ve never met anyone like her. And, on Monday, I finally got up the courage to ask her out for drinks, and she gave me the old brush off that she ‘had to meet a friend’ and ‘maybe another time.’”

Antoine looked confused. “So? She had to meet a friend. Why is that bad?”

“Because it’s obviously a brush-off?”

“I’m sorry, Daniel, there’s a disconnect here I’m just not getting. Why do you think that’s a brush-off?”

“Come on, Antoine,” Daniel said as he pointedly turned to face Antoine, “You just develop a sixth sense for these types of things. I know it’s a brush off just like you know that when the cop follows you down the street, it’s not because you both just happen to be going to the same place.” 

Comprehension spread quickly across Antoine’s face, and he sat back to ponder Daniel’s statement. “Ok… Yes, on the surface, that may sound like a fair point,” he finally said, softly and gently, “But, Daniel, the cops have been following me down the street since I was eight years old. You asked this woman out once.”

Daniel turned and stared silently into his drink.

After a moment, Antoine waved and called down the bar, “Hey Charlie… Come here for a minute.”

Charlie turned and walked towards them, all the while wiping down the bar with a white rag. 

“What’s up boss?”

“Charlie,” Antoine began, leaning forward into the conversation, “If you ask a woman out and she says she can’t go because she has to meet a friend but ‘maybe another time,’ what do you think?”

“Well, I think I’d ask her out once more and see what she says the second time.”

“See?” Antoine excitedly patted the bar and pointed towards Charlie. 

“But what if I was right?” Daniel asked as his haunted eyes raised and locked onto Antoine’s.

“But what if you weren’t?” Antoine replied quickly. “This woman must be pretty special for you to have completely ignored an entire table of co-eds who were obviously into you. If you want to write her off after one failed drinks invitation in which she may or may not have actually had something else she had to do…”

With that, Antoine shrugged, finished the last of his drink, and stood up. 

Leaning in to pat Daniel on the back, he added, “Look, Daniel, I call you the Cat With Three Legs to remind you that, any way you want to count it, you’re MORE than… not LESS than. You’re a great guy and one of my best friends, and I don’t want to see you blow a chance at happiness because you’re being stupid. If this woman is everything you say she is, give her the benefit of the doubt. Man, give YOURSELF the benefit of the doubt. And don’t ever – EVER – make me feel bad about dragging you two miles through the snow – because between leaving you to die and having you lose your damn leg, I’d do the same thing all over again.”

With that, Antoine walked over to the host’s stand to seat another arriving couple. Daniel ordered another drink and lost himself in the music.


	8. Chapter 8

The rain had stopped by the time Daniel left the club, but its gloss remained on the streets and sidewalks and brought a balmy coolness to the air. 

Normally, he would have hailed a cab to painlessly and efficiently speed him across the blocks to his small apartment, but, tonight, he decided to walk. He just needed to clear his head and think about things -- particularly, things that Antoine had said -- because, at least so far, any way that he thought, analyzed, or ruminated about those things – in any order or permutation, from any angle or in any key – he could only come to one conclusion. 

Antoine was right. 

But then, Antoine generally was.

As he slowly made his way past the fountain in Washington Square Park towards the arch, Daniel thought back over the past two years. The past two long, painful, awful years. 

And he realized that he was just tired – *tired* -- of being The Guy With The Leg. 

Or, rather, The Guy Without The Leg.

Shortly after it happened, the doctors in the Army hospital had explained to him about Phantom Limb Syndrome, in which an amputee often experiences pain in the missing limb. What they didn’t tell him was that the neurological manifestation of physical pain in the missing limb would expand to the point where it encompassed his entire life and being. 

That he would become nothing more than Phantom Limb Syndrome.

And he was just tired of it.

Standing under the arch, he looked back to the fountain which was surrounded, even at this late hour, with smiling, socializing college students. He would never, ever again be like them physically. 

But what about mentally? 

Supposing --- just supposing -- Antoine and Charlie were right and Peggy hadn’t actually turned him down … Peggy Carter wouldn’t want to date the sad sack. The Guy Without The Leg.

But she might be willing to date The Guy.

The question is… where – and how -- would Daniel ever find him again?


	9. Chapter 9

Peggy Carter had her work cut out for her. 

As she walked into the SSR offices on Wednesday morning, the first thing she noticed was Daniel – specifically that, after spending the bulk of the past two days hidden away in the filing room, he was back at his desk, with a cup of coffee in one hand and an open file in the other.

She dropped her bag onto her desk and began the process of organizing for her day, while trying to ignore her surfacing concerns that his resettlement might indicate that he was over her rejection of the drinks invitation – or, well, *her*. 

At the very least, his presence back at the desk would make engaging him in The Conversation substantially more difficult. Although Daniel had extended the drinks invitation in the midst of the bustle of the office (“And look at how well that turned out for him,” Peggy sighed ruefully), she just didn’t feel comfortable doing so. It wasn’t that she cared about what her male colleagues might say about her “overstepping a woman’s bounds” by asking a man out – she was, after all, Peggy Carter and “overstepping a woman’s bounds” was simply What She Did – but she didn’t want to give them any more potential ammunition with which they could question or tease Daniel about his masculinity or his feelings for her. And while things had certainly been better in the office for both of them following the Stark matter, it was still too early to tell if the changes would last. 

No, she resolved, The Conversation must occur, in private, between Daniel and herself and no one else. 

Only then could she speak freely enough to ensure that no further ridiculous misunderstandings occurred.

 

* * * * * 

It simply was not possible. 

Peggy stared at the clock on the wall – its hands read 4:30pm – and then redirected her gaze at Daniel… who had not moved from his desk since the start of the day.

Well, really, that wasn’t entirely true. She did see him get up for a restroom break around 11:30am while she was trapped in a meeting with Thompson, and, later, around 2:30pm, he went to lunch while she was picking up a file from the lab. 

What rotten luck.

And with the clock tick-tick-ticking away at the remainder of the workday, if she wanted to have The Conversation today, she needed to do so soon. 

Her gaze slowly drifted, as it often did, to the back of Daniel’s head. While she started the day fantasizing about what it would be like to run her fingers through his thick black hair, she now wanted a handful of it solely for the purpose of dragging him to the file room so they could finally talk.

As she contemplated the timing of providing him with several cups of coffee and then ambushing him in the loo, Daniel grabbed his crutch and a stack of folders and started in the direction of the file room. 

Peggy’s eyes widened. 

The game was afoot.

And she suddenly felt sick.

 

* * * * *

Daniel integrated the files he was holding alphabetically into the filing box and smiled to himself, remembering Peggy’s zinger to Thompson about Thompson’s filing skills.

Peggy.

God, he felt like such a jerk. He couldn’t even believe that he spent the past two days sulking in the file room after she’d turned down his drinks invitation – which, whether that was her intention or not, she was completely entitled to do. Then, today, after he returned to his desk, he was too self-conscious and embarrassed by his behavior to even speak to her… to the point that he even took his breaks when she wasn’t around, so it would be “less awkward.”

“Less awkward.”

Replacing the lid on the filing box, Daniel shook his head. Everything he had done in the past several days to make things “less awkward” just made them moreso. 

And he didn’t know what he was going to do. 

But just as he finished replacing the box on the shelf, he heard a soft voice behind him. 

“Agent Sousa... Uh, Daniel?”

He turned to see Peggy standing just inside the doorway of the filing room. While her stealth entrance had been befitting of her skills as one of the SSR’s best operatives, once his surprise subsided, he quickly noticed that, otherwise, something seemed … off … from her normal demeanor.

“Peggy…” he replied, more out of acknowledgement than anything else, as his stomach tightened. Was it nervousness? Or fear?

“I- I must apologize for following you in here, but, you see, I’ve been wanting to speak with you all day. Privately.” As she shifted uncomfortably back and forth on her feet, Daniel realized what it was.

Peggy Carter was nervous. 

Concerned, he replied, “Sure, Peg… what is it?”

“Yes, well, uh,” she stammered as she studied the alignment of the tile on the floor, “As a result of the Stark matter, my friend Angie and I were forced to quit our rooms at the Griffith Hotel.”

Daniel’s hand shot to his forehead as he grimaced in pained realization, “Awwww, Peggy, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault…” 

She extended her hand into the air in a conciliatory gesture and took a few steps closer. “No, Daniel… it’s fine. That’s not – that’s not what I meant. The reason that I’m mentioning it is that, on Monday night, Angie and I had to move into our replacement housing, so… um, I was wondering… uh, if you didn’t already have plans … and – of course -- only if you still wanted to … perhaps we could get that drink on Friday night?”

As Peggy progressed through her invitation, her words spilled out faster and faster. But, once they were out, it felt like they hung in the air for hours as she nervously waited for him to respond.

And Daniel wasn’t quick to respond, because he was just too stunned.

“Did Peggy Carter just ask me out?”

“*Peggy Carter just asked me out.*”

“And she was clearly nervous.”

“Peggy Carter was nervous about asking ME out?”

“I’m sorry,” Peggy said, wringing her hands and directing her gaze back to the floor after multiple long, silent, clanging seconds passed. “I- I… understand. Another time, perhaps.” Although she tried her best to hide it, Daniel glimpsed the crushed disappointment that flashed across her face, and her obvious sadness jolted him from his confusion.

“No! Peggy… wait! I’m sorry … I was just… I mean… I – I’d like that. Really.”

“You have no idea how much,” he mentally added.

Almost as if she could read his mind, she broke out into a huge, blushing smile – bigger than any he had ever seen her make – and, after a few moments, she replied quietly, “Me, too. So… it’s a date, then?”

Daniel searched her face for an answer that, despite her smile, was somehow not already apparent to him. “Is it?”

Peggy’s smile extinguished and was replaced by concerned confusion. “Unless… you … you don’t want it to be?”

This time it was Daniel who broke into a huge grin. “Peggy, I definitely want it to be. It’s a date.”

They smiled shyly at each other for several moments before Peggy, with confidence restored, said, “Excellent. I shall look forward to it. You, sir, may pick me up at my desk at 6:30. Don’t be late.”

“Never,” Daniel smiled sweetly at her as they moved to exit the file room.

The sight of them walking back to their desks together, from the file room, with blissful smiles on their faces, might have raised a few eyebrows if anyone had been paying attention. But, sometimes, invisibility had its perks.

Daniel sat down at his desk, picked up a file, and opened it, but his mind was occupied with the gymnastics of trying to figure out what exactly just happened. 

Peggy Carter asked him out. Peggy Carter asked HIM out. And confident, cool, and always-in- control Peggy Carter was clearly nervous when she did it. Was she afraid that he would say no? And that was upsetting to her? 

Daniel’s train of thought was cut short when he heard Peggy dialing her phone, followed after a few seconds, by Peggy stating, in a low whisper, “Angie Martinelli, please.”

On the one hand, Daniel appreciated that he probably wasn’t meant to hear the phone conversation that was to follow, and, that, as a gentleman, he probably shouldn’t listen to it. On the other, due to his injury and the fact that he just sat down, it would be rather obvious if he tried to leave. So he continued to stare at the file folder. 

Peggy twisted in her chair, in an ineffective attempt to conceal her side of the conversation from nearby ears. “Angie, it’s Peggy. Yes.”

Daniel heard a shriek erupt from within the receiver before it was quickly muted as Peggy slammed the receiver against her palm. 

And he realized the file he was staring at was empty.

“Angie, shhhh!” Peggy hissed.

Daniel grabbed another file from the pile on his desk. It was also empty.

“Angie, no. I can’t. We’ll talk about it tonight.”

Daniel began looking through his desk for labels with which he could label his empty files.

“I am NOT saying that. I already told you – why do I have to say that?”

He needed a pen. To use on the labels. To label his empty files.

“Angie… What… Ok, ok! … *The pigeon flies to the Hudson.* There… are you happy?”

Where was his pen? He couldn’t find his pen.

“No, Angie,” Peggy sighed, “The Hudson meant ‘yes,’ … the East River meant ‘no’ -- I work at The Phone Company, I think I can remember the codes!”

Daniel suddenly remembered that he needed to refill his stapler.

“Angie, I really must go now. I’ll talk to you tonight. Goodbye.”

Peggy hung up the phone. As she sat back in her chair, her confused grin slowly morphed into one of knowing amusement. 

Directly in front of her, at his desk… Daniel was stapling everything in sight.


	10. Chapter 10

The first thing Peggy heard was the front door slamming shut. The second thing was the shriek. And the third was the footsteps running from the front door, down the hallway and into the sitting room where she sat reclining on the couch surrounded by paperwork. As the footsteps came to a sudden stop, Peggy looked up with raised eyebrows…

… just in time to see Angie standing at the entrance to the sitting room … and to hear another shriek.

“English!! Oh my god!! I want to hear ALL about what happened with Cary Grant!! I’ll be right back!”

Peggy watched – and soon only heard -- her friend skipping back the hall and into her bedroom, all the while singing, “Cary Grant and English sittin’ in a tree… K-I-S-S-I-N-G…” She shook her head in amusement and thought about what a shame it was that Howard was such a horrible cad, as he and Angie would be otherwise perfect for each other. 

Angie emerged a few minutes later in her waitress uniform and pink slippers. She grabbed the Scotch decanter and two glasses from the bar in the corner of the room, placed them on the coffee table, and sat down in the leather club chair next to the couch.

“Oh, no, you’re not!” Peggy said, eyeing the Scotch uneasily. “Not again!”

Angie sighed and rolled her eyes. “English, don’t be silly. Presuming you two are going out on Friday as you said you were gonna suggest, you have exactly 48 hours until your Big Date with Cary Grant, so you need to be in top form. I’m gonna pour you a glass of scotch, but I’m cutting you off after one.”

True to her word, Angie poured a small glass of the liquid and handed it to Peggy, adding, “Now... spill. And I don’t mean the scotch.”

Peggy sat up and took a small sip. “There’s not much to tell, really,” she shrugged. “I asked him if he was available on Friday and whether he would like to go for drinks as I wasn’t able to make it earlier in the week, and he agreed.”

Angie stared at Peggy.

“My god, Peg. That was as romantic as page 17 of the manual for the automat’s vending machines. I waited all day to hear for this, and that’s all you’re gonna give me?”

“Yes, well,” Peggy replied matter-of-factly, “When one considers that I’m British and an employee at The Phone Company, that’s quite a lot of information, actually.”

“Yes, well,” Angie replied, mocking her tone, “You’re in America now, you’re off work, and we’re talking about your love life, not national secrets, so, as your best friend, I demand to know how it went with Cary Grant!”

Peggy smirked ever-so-slightly, but remained silent and still.

“Peggggggg!” Angie finally whined, “If you’re not gonna give me more, I get to ask. Twenty questions -- and you have to answer every single one of them. Deal?”

Peggy leaned back on the couch and her smirk grew into a devilish smile. “Fine. But I’m not drinking.” 

Angie jumped up and down in her seat and clapped her hands in happy excitement. She thought for a moment and then began. 

“Question number 1. Are you going out on Friday night?” Angie took a sip of her scotch.

“Yes,” Peggy answered simply, providing no additional details. 

“Question number 2… where are you going?” Sip.

Peggy shook her head. “I don’t know. We just said ‘drinks.’ As he made the initial invitation, though, I assume he had some place in mind and I shall find out on Friday.”

“Question number 3… where and how did you ask him?” Sip.

“I tried all day to speak with him alone, but, every time he got up, I was otherwise indisposed. I was finally able to corner him around 4:30 in the filing room.”

“Question number 4… did he seem happy when you asked?” Sip.

“Yes, after he responded; although, it took him an extended moment to respond, so I was afraid that he would say ‘no.’”

“Question number 5… why do you think it took him a while to respond?” Sip.

“Well, given that he didn’t say ‘no,’ I would assume it was because I caught him off-guard or, simply, that, for any number of reasons, he did not expect me to ask him out for drinks. I wasn’t left with the impression that he was trying – and unable -- to think of an excuse.” 

“Question number 6… what do you like most about him?” Sip.

Peggy thought for a moment. “His intelligence, his dedication to doing what is right, and his kind heart.”

“Question number 7… what do you like least about him?” Sip.

“He accused me of sleeping with Howard.”

Angie spit out her drink. “What?!?!”

“It’s a long, classified story,” Peggy explained wearily, “Suffice it to say the general consensus among The Telephone Company at the time of my arrest was that I had been helping Howard because we were… shall we say, involved.” After a beat, Peggy looked around the room and added glumly, “Which, of course, is a myth that my residence here is not likely to do anything to dispel.”

“Peg,” Angie eyed her seriously, “You know if you really like this guy, you have to tell him about that, right? You don’t want any more misunderstandings.”

“Yes… I know. I’m still working out how I’ll address it, but I will.”

“Ok, question number 8 -- ”

Peggy interrupted, “Question number 10, Angie.”

“What? What do you mean? We were on 8,” Angie argued.

“Yes, but, as I recall, you asked 2 unnumbered questions… first, about Daniel accusing me of sleeping with Howard and, second, regarding whether I planned to tell Daniel that I am living in Howard’s apartment. So that puts us at 10. Remember, Angie… I work for The Phone Company.”

Angie’s eyes narrowed to slits, and she whispered, “You, Peggy Carter, are evil.”

“Evil? No. Observant? Yes,” Peggy smirked and took a sip of her scotch.

Angie thought for a moment while continuing to give Peggy the stink-eye. “Question number TEN…,” she stressed in annoyance, “How many dates until you let him untie the bow, Peg?”

This time it was Peggy who spit out her drink.

Angie broke into a triumphantly wicked smile and said, “Remember, Peg… Angie. Now, answer question number TEN.”

Still coughing, Peggy blushed and, in her most conciliatory tone, stated, “I sincerely apologize, Angie. Let’s call it a draw and you may have questions 8 and 9 back.” 

“Sorry, I don’t want 8 and 9 back anymore. I want an answer to 10.”

Angie downed the scotch in her glass and refilled it. Peggy remained motionless on the couch, blushing and stricken. 

“I’m waiting, Peg.”

After several additional moments of silence, most of Peggy’s composure returned with a gulp, and she carefully selected her words. “Well, that would depend, wouldn’t it? On a great number of variables that we don’t know at the present moment.”

“So does everything else in life,” Angie replied. “That’s not an answer. Now… Answer. The. Question.”

Exasperated with Angie’s refusal to let her off the hook, Peggy hissed, “Angie, please! I’m British!”

With that, Angie began laughing. Which quickly segued into full-on, doubled-over in the chair, side-splitting, sobbing laughter that, instead of subsiding, only increased as the moments passed. And, for once in her life, Peggy Carter didn’t know what to do other than confusedly watch her friend writhe on the club chair in uncontrollable laughter. 

“Angie? What? What is so funny?”

As is often the case, the laughter was infectious… and, although Peggy had no idea why, she began to laugh, too.

“Angie?” she choked, “What? Why are you laughing?”

Angie attempted to catch her breath while she wiped away the tears that streamed down her face. “Oh my god, English. I’m sorry, but I had this vision of you and Cary on your wedding night. Poor guy is all worked up and ready to go, only to have you tell him,” she continued in her poorly-effected imitation of Peggy’s posh, outraged English accent, “‘Daniel, please! I’m British!’”

With that, they both began laughing again – Angie, because of the renewed visual image, and Peggy, because of Angie’s imitation and the fact that it finally occurred to her that she, Peggy, was acting like a dowdy old prude.

As their laughter subsided a second time, Peggy grabbed Angie’s scotch glass and finished its remaining contents. Then she lowered her head and answered, “A few months. Maybe more. But, admittedly, I don’t have much experience to say one way or the other.”

Angie patted her arm. “That’s ok, Peg. I’d be worried if you did. Besides…” she added with a smile, “There’s lots of people in Britain, right? I guess you all figure it out eventually.”

Peggy picked up a pillow from the couch and hit her.


	11. Chapter 11

It was an unseasonably warm spring evening in Greenwich Village as Daniel Sousa sat down at one of the sidewalk tables outside Caffe Reggio. In front of him, taxis and more non-descript cars beeped and honked their way down MacDougal Street in a one-sided Morse-code-like dialogue with the pedestrians who jaywalked in front of them, on their way from café to bar and back again. 

Daniel ordered a cappuccino from the waitress and pulled a small pamphlet book from his inside breast pocket. He opened the book – a collection of poems by the French writer Paul Valéry – and turned to an earmarked page somewhere in the midst of La Jeune Parque. For several minutes, he tried to lose himself in the text and the necessary mental translations before the “clack” of the cappuccino cup on the table broke what little concentration he had and caused him to finally give up. He put the book down on the table and rubbed his hand over his eyes before picking up the cup to drink. 

Across the street, a young couple embraced on a stoop. He regarded their body language… the Broadway marquees of their smiles, the way they playfully touched each others’ arms and leaned in toward each other when not embracing, and the warmth and joy that seemed to radiate out from them at every point like a sort of hovering outline. 

Did he dare even hope that, one day, he and Peggy could be so happy together?

Daniel thought back over the events of the past several days, culminating with their conversation in the filing room. He still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened – or how or why – but, by now, after his first five hundred or so attempts within the past several hours to figure it out, he had finally accepted that (1) he may never understand, and (2) Peggy asked him on a date, he accepted, and they were going out – on a date -- on Friday night.

So he was going to stop analyzing it and just go with it. 

But the one thing that he could not stop analyzing -- the one thing he could not simply just accept or let go – was Peggy’s nervousness.

Why, on earth, had Peggy Carter been nervous about asking him out?

As he continued to watch the couple – in an academic, not creepy way – he noticed how they mirrored each other, both in terms of facial expressions and body language. If the man smiled, the woman smiled. If the woman shifted on her feet, so did the man. And on and on and on. He noticed that it created a certain equality within their subconscious exchange, as each party continued to acknowledge and convey support and acceptance for the other’s feelings in real-time.

And that’s when it hit Daniel.

Peggy was right. He did put her on a pedestal.

Why, on earth, would Peggy not be nervous when she asked him out? He certainly was when he asked her out a few days earlier! Although much more complimentary than most of the other projections that had been shown on her, his Peggy Carter – Ace Agent, The Smartest and Most Confident and Beautiful Woman In The World, and Captain America’s Girl – was just that… his Peggy Carter, created by and defined by him. It said nothing about who she really was… the person that she was inside. The fact of the matter is that, in reality, Peggy was a human being, a woman with the same hopes, fears, desires, and insecurities as everyone else… and he was just one more man who tried to define her as something more than or less than.

At that moment, Daniel understood that any relationship with Peggy would have to progress on equal footing. Just as she didn’t want to be treated “less than” because she was a woman, she didn’t want to be treated “more than” for the same – or any other -- reason. And Daniel, with his injury, could certainly understand.

If Peggy had been nervous, it was because she was asking out The Guy, not The Guy Without The Leg. She already viewed him as an equal, and now he had to do the same for her. He had to take her down off the pedestal, and stop looking at it like he – a mere one-legged mortal -- was somehow inexplicably granted a date with an unattainable Greek (or, in this case, British) goddess descended from the heavens.

Daniel felt his confidence returning. For the first time in two years, he felt like himself again. Like The Guy. And he felt like he could be good for Peggy. That they could be good for each other. As equals. 

They had both lost so much in the war. Whether she knew it or not, she was already helping him heal. He hoped that he could do the same for her. 

He hoped that they could find their way back together.


	12. Chapter 12

It had been a long day of staring at the clock. For both of them.

At exactly 6:30pm on Friday night, Daniel stood and pushed in his desk chair. Seeing him, Peggy also rose and gathered her purse and coat, which she finished putting on seconds before he arrived at her desk. 

“Hi Peggy, ready to go?” he smiled.

“Yes, let’s,” she smiled back warmly, and he stood back and motioned for her to proceed him. 

In a sort of nervous, unspoken agreement not to draw further attention to the fact that they were leaving together, neither of them spoke as they made their exit through the building. Thanks to their continuing cloak of invisibility, the only person to even notice was Rose, who met Peggy’s bid of a “good weekend” with a raised eyebrow. Peggy’s quick smirk told Rose all she needed to know, and Rose’s face broke into a wide smile as she watched them pass.

Once they emerged from the building, they stopped on the front sidewalk, finally free to talk. They regarded each other awkwardly for a moment or two before Daniel broke the silence with a shy smile. “So I was thinking, if we’re going for drinks, we should probably get some food first. Is there anywhere nearby that you would like to go?”

Peggy smiled. “Well, there’s an automat I know of--” she began without thinking, before freezing mid-sentence in sudden realization of exactly what she was suggesting.

Daniel took note of her quickly changing expression and asked, “Peggy, are you ok?” as a look of concern flashed across his features.

Peggy looked down at the ground. “Oh dear. What I started to say is that there is an automat that I go to that is three blocks away, but then I realized that my roommate Angie, who is a waitress there, will most likely be working.”

Seeing the look of genuine confusion that spread across Daniel’s face and knowing that he was already probably assuming the worst about her hesitancy, Peggy added sheepishly, “If I bring you there on a date, she will do everything she possibly can to embarrass us both.”

Daniel’s face broke into a wide, relieved smile and he chuckled, “Well, I gotta say… now I’m intrigued. But,” he added more seriously, “I don’t want to do anything that’s going to make you uncomfortable. It’s completely up to you.”

“I appreciate that, Daniel.” 

Peggy thought for a moment before making her decision. “I think that we should go to the automat – that way, you’ll be able to see what you would be getting yourself into by dating me,” she smirked, while Daniel’s heart secretly leapt at her insinuation that she was open to an ongoing relationship. “Plus, I think we both need something to be keep us on our toes. It’s been a rather quiet week in the office -- no scheming hypnotists bent on revenge, no female Russian assassins, no Howard…”

“And I haven’t accused you of treason all week,” Daniel smiled ruefully.

“Precisely,” Peggy gave him a kind smile. “So… shall we live dangerously? You must just promise that you won’t hold anything she says against me.”

Daniel drew an “x” over his heart and stated, with mock solemnity, “Promise. And you have to promise the same.”

Peggy nodded.

As they began to walk toward the automat, Daniel continued in a jovial tone, “But I don’t even know her… how could she possibly embarrass me?”

“Oh, Daniel,” Peggy laughed and playfully patted his arm, “You’ll be surprised.”

 

* * * * *

 

When Peggy and Daniel walked into the automat and took a seat in Peggy’s normal booth, Angie almost dropped the coffee pot. It was like she had been cast in a role opposite Laurence Olivier on her birthday after Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy all left her gold and chocolate Oscar statutes and other gifts in the night. After wiping up the coffee she spilled when she saw them walk in, she grabbed the coffee pot and two menus and made a beeline for the table.

As she approached, Peggy flashed her a stern “Do NOT embarrass me” look, which Angie returned with a devilish “Don’t be silly, OF COURSE I will” smile before exclaiming, “English! You brought Cary *here* on your first date? I’ll tell ya what… for that, you don’t have to get me a Christmas gift this year!”

Angie handed them each a menu and proceeded to fill their coffee cups, while Daniel looked around confusedly before asking, “Who’s Cary?”

Peggy, still giving Angie a stern look, made the introductions. “Daniel, this is Angie Martinelli, my roommate. Angie, this is *Daniel Sousa*, my colleague and date for the evening.” Peggy put particular emphasis on the words “Daniel Sousa.” 

“Oh, English, *Cary* and I already met when he came to arrest you,” Angie replied, putting equal emphasis on the word “Cary.” “You know, he’s a lot more handsome when he’s not scowling.” 

Peggy met Daniel’s eyes and mumbled, “See?” He chuckled and took a sip of his freshly poured coffee. 

“Cary,” Angie turned and shook her finger at him, “You better not try nothing that involves handcuffs *tonight*. Or at least for a few months. And then only if English likes it.”

With that, Daniel began to choke on the coffee he just swallowed, and Peggy gasped, “Oh, dear god,” as her face turned from ashen to bright red and back again.

Angie smiled and gave them each a look of smug satisfaction. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your orders.” 

As Angie walked away, Peggy sat back and shook her head in disbelief. Part of her couldn’t believe that Angie would embarrass her like that in front of Daniel on their first date. The other part of her couldn’t believe that she, Peggy, had been so daft as to bring him here and think that Angie wouldn’t. 

“Daniel,” Peggy began, shaking her head in anguished embarrassment, “I must apologize for Miss Martinelli’s behavior just now and, most likely, for the rest of the meal. I- I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

Daniel continued coughing for several moments, until he was finally able to choke out the word, “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” Peggy repeated in confusion.

Daniel coughed once again in an effort to regain control of his voice and then explained, “I grew up in New York, Peggy, so I have friends here. But you always hear stories about how the city can be such a lonely place.” He coughed once more for the last time. “You came here, what -- nine months ago? No friends, no family, you didn’t know anyone… all you had was a job where your co-workers weren’t even friendly to you. Personally, I think you’re incredibly lucky to have found a friend who cares enough about you to embarrass you on a date…” Daniel broke into a big smile, “while also warning me that I better treat you right. Don’t apologize for that. Not to me.” 

At that moment, Peggy was struck with the depth of her incredible good fortune -- not just in finding Angie, but in finding Daniel, as well. She immediately relaxed and reached across the table to cover his hand with her own. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

“But,” Daniel looked down in shame, “I *do* owe *you* an apology.” When he raised his eyes back up to meet hers, they were apologetic and filled with regret. “I’m sorry for the way I handled the Stark matter, Peggy. I- I should have come to you first. I caused so many more problems for you at work and got you kicked out of your home – all for no reason. I’m so truly sorry for all of it. And for the fact that I didn’t trust you.”

Peggy squeezed Daniel’s hand and looked at him solemnly. “Daniel, I don’t fault you for any of it – you were just doing your job. You are an exceptional agent, despite the way our colleagues may treat you, and I would have expected nothing less. Had the roles been reversed, I would have done the same. Except -- ” 

Peggy stopped and released his hand, returning hers to her side. Daniel noted that she lowered her eyes, and the nervousness was back.

“Except?” he prompted expectantly, with eyebrows raised, confused by her sudden retreat.

Peggy sighed heavily and looked up at him. 

“Come on, Peggy. Tell me,” he urged gently. “Whatever it is, I’d like to know.”

After a few moments of staring at him while carefully selecting her words, she explained, “I did not particularly appreciate your accusation that I was involved with Howard.”

In a way, Daniel thought, it was absurdly humorous that Peggy was more upset about being accused of sleeping with Stark than being a traitor. Maybe one day, he thought, she, too, would see the humor in it… but he knew today was not that day.

“Ok,” he replied, leaning in intently. “Tell me more.”

She exhaled loudly again and began. “Howard and I have been friends for years. We worked closely during the war, and, in addition to being one of the only people who has consistently believed in me and valued me, I dare say, he is like a brother to me -- an infuriating brother who I love dearly but whose habits and behaviors of which I oftentimes disapprove. He is an intolerable nightmare in the way he treats women, and I would never, ever even *consider* becoming involved with him for that and any number of other reasons.” 

Peggy paused briefly and then continued, “So… your accusation that I was helping him because I was sleeping with him was hurtful to me, because it assumed that I was incapable of my own thought and that my actions could only be directed by a man… not to mention that I had very poor taste in men.” 

Daniel waited for her to say more, but when it became clear that she was finished, he spoke. “I’m sorry about that, Peggy. Really. It’s just… you think you know someone, and then you learn something that makes you question anything and everything you know or think you know about them, and you don’t know what to believe anymore. Part of it was that I was hurt – I couldn’t reconcile how someone I considered a friend could lie to me and be a traitor – then, Chief and Thompson thought it would be more beneficial for the interrogation if I were the one to accuse you of those things, because they thought it would be more unsettling for you and you’d be more likely to break. I am truly sorry if I hurt or offended you.”

“Well… I suppose that makes sense,” Peggy replied tentatively, moving her hands back onto the table. After another moment, she added, “Daniel, what do you say we put the whole nasty business behind us?”

“I’d like that a lot,” he smiled.

“As would I,” she smiled back. “But, before we do, there are three things I need you to know.”

He nodded. 

Her eyes locked onto his as she spoke. “1. Angie and I are living in Howard’s penthouse apartment. He’s allowing us to stay there because we were evicted from the Griffith, and because he’s my friend and I helped him, 2. I am not sleeping with him, nor have I ever done so, and 3. I have much *better* taste in men.”

With that, she leaned forward and replaced her hand on top of his, and they sat quietly smiling and staring at each other… until Angie re-appeared at their table and exclaimed, “English, if you climb over that table any further you’re gonna be in his lap!”

Startled, Peggy jumped, sat back, and pulled her hand back to her side.

Angie noted Daniel’s frown at the removal of Peggy’s hand, and, for a moment she felt bad about interrupting them; however, she wanted Daniel to take Peggy out on the town for a proper date, and she knew that wouldn’t happen if she let them sit there staring at each other all night. 

“So what can I get for you two lovebirds? At least from what’s on the menu?”

“Uh, I’ll have my usual, please, Angie,” Peggy mumbled with renewed embarrassment, strategically trying to keep her order as simple as possible in the hopes that it would minimize Angie’s time at the table. 

“Could I just have the meatloaf, please?” Daniel asked.

“Excellent choice, Cary,” Angie complimented. “I’m gonna go put your food orders in, so you two can go right back to being completely adorable. And just so we’re perfectly clear, I call dibs on Maid of Honor!”

With that, Angie smiled widely, made a kissy face at them, and turned and walked away. As Peggy and Daniel sat blushing at each other, Peggy muttered, “I promise you that I shall do my absolute best tonight to smother her in her sleep.”

Her statement struck Daniel as funny, and he began to laugh. After a few moments, Peggy was laughing, too. 

“This is fun,” Daniel told her with a smile, and Peggy responded with her own. “Yes. It is.”

They stared at each other for a few more moments before Daniel leaned in, smirked, and asked, “But I have to ask, why does she keep calling me ‘Cary’?”

Peggy also leaned in and reclaimed his hand, “Well, she has a fondness for nicknames – I’m ‘English,’ for obvious reasons -- and she’s chosen to christen you after Cary Grant.”

“Cary Grant?” Daniel repeated, somewhat stunned. “Wow. That’s not the first nickname that I would have assumed someone would pick for me, but I’ll take it. Happily.”

Peggy leaned in a little further and said, “I don’t know. I can see it,” as began to trace circles on his hand with her thumb.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Daniel mentally took stock of the moment. He was on a date with Peggy Carter. The night was still young, yet, already, she was holding his hand and flirting with him. Her roommate, with whom Peggy had clearly discussed him, had nicknamed him “Cary Grant,” made a kinky sex joke about them, and claimed the Maid of Honor role at their wedding. 

His leg be damned. 

It really *didn’t* matter -- at least with Peggy and Angie. 

And for the first time in a long time, he felt accepted, comfortable, and happy.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After I posted the last chapter, I came up with this additional Angie scene that I wanted to add. This is not the last chapter!

Daniel and Peggy filled the rest of their dinner with typical first-date “getting-to-know-you” conversation, which focused on such straight-forward and factual disclosures as family, hometown, schooling, birthdays, and childhood pets. As they sat laughing over empty plates at Peggy’s recollection of the time she watched several prominent British diplomats chase her family’s spaniel through the back garden in an attempt to recapture pages of a major international treaty draft held in the pooch’s mouth, Angie reappeared tableside.

“Awwww, would you just look at you two? Honestly, you’re so cute together, I can’t even stand it.”

“Ann-giee,” Peggy warned.

“Peg-gyy,” Angie replied in the same sing-song voice. “Is there anything else I can bring the happy couple? Because, if not, I’m gonna need you to scram. All the sweetness coming from this table is making my other customers lose their appetites, which is bad for business.”

Peggy rolled her eyes while Daniel chuckled and said, “Just the check, please, Angie.”

Angie pulled her order pad out of her apron, and Peggy, reaching for her purse, added, “Angie, give me the check, please.” 

After quickly tallying their bill, Angie handed it… to Daniel. 

“Angie! Wha-?” Peggy said, shooting her friend a look that was all parts a 1940s equivalent of “What the hell?”

“Sorry, Peg,” Angie shrugged. “Your guy should pay tonight. Besides… he asked me first.”

On the one hand, Peggy was exasperated with her friend’s support of ridiculous gender roles. One the other, she was secretly pleased that, after only half a date, Angie and Daniel were already getting along so well that they were conspiring against her. 

Peggy waited until she believed Daniel was sufficiently distracted with reaching for his wallet before making a quick grab for the check, only to have Daniel instinctively pull it back above his head and out of her reach, impressing her with his reflexive speed.

“Oh oh oh… sorry… not fast enough! Not fast enough!” he taunted jovially as he continued to wave it above his head. 

“Daniel, please,” she attempted to reason, “As I was the one who invited you out, it’s only fair that I should pay.”

“Yes, but, if you recall,” Daniel teased, “I actually asked you first.”

Angie watched in amusement as Peggy crossed her arms and grunted a “Hrumph” borne of mock outrage. Daniel put both the check and his wallet on the booth seat next to him – out of her reach – and leaned forward to add, with a sweet smile, “Peggy, I appreciate the thought… I really do. And, if it’s important to you, we can certainly discuss it if you decide you want to go out with me again. But, while it may very well be a personal failing on my part, as a gentleman, I can’t let you to pay for our first date, ok?”

“Geez,” Angie observed, “It’s like you two are already married.”

Peggy glared at Angie. “Right,” she said, moving to exit the booth, “On that note, I’m running to the loo. I hate you both.”

“Cheerio! Tally ho!” Angie waved and called after her, in her worst British accent, while Daniel sat chuckling amusedly at them both.

As soon as Peggy was out of earshot, Angie’s demeanor quickly morphed. She slid into the seat vacated by Peggy, leaned forward, and, meeting Daniel’s eyes with cutting, no-nonsense seriousness, ordered, “Ok, Danny Boy, we only have a few minutes, so spill… what are your intentions?”

Whiplashed by the sudden change in both Angie and the direction of the conversation, Daniel repeated, “Wha-? My… intentions?”

“Your intentions towards Peggy,” Angie clarified. “Do you like her? Or are you just playing around with her?”

Daniel opened and closed his mouth a few times in confusion before finally managing to utter, “Yes, Angie, I like her. I really like her. I’m not really the ‘playing around’ type… for a number of reasons.”

“Good,” Angie continued, refusing to break eye contact, “Because I know she likes you. I also know that she’s had a lot of pain in her life. I don’t know any details – she never talks about it – but, at the Griffith, I would hear her through the wall when she woke up screaming in the middle of the night. And if you do anything – *anything* – to add to that pain, I will find you and hurt you. Are we clear?”

Angie found herself stunned by the immediacy and depth of the sad expression that transformed Daniel’s face as he lowered his eyes and mumbled, in a faraway monotone voice, not as a question but as a statement of realization, “Peggy has nightmares, too.”

Between his reaction and his use of the word “too,” Angie’s eyes softened and she reached across the table to grab his arm. “Hey Daniel… Daniel, are you ok?”

Daniel blinked several times and the trance was broken, but when he looked back up at Angie, she saw a vestige of the sadness in his eyes. “Yeah, sorry,” he answered softly. “We’re clear, Angie. I have no intention of doing anything to hurt Peggy.”

“Ok,” she nodded in approval.

“You know, you’re a good friend to her.”

“Thanks,” she broke into a warm smile. “Play your cards right, and I’ll be a good friend to you, too. I’m pulling for you, Daniel.”

Moments later, Peggy returned to the table to see Angie and Daniel smiling at each other -- with Angie’s hand on Daniel’s arm -- and she gave them both a quizzical look.

Angie pointed and laugh-snorted at Peggy’s expression as she quickly stood. “English, is that jealousy I see? Already? Don’t worry, I wasn’t fondling your boy – that’s for you to do. Just giving him a bit of a best friend’s friendly advice is all.”

Daniel handed Angie several bills with the instruction that she should “keep the change.” 

After Peggy grabbed her coat and purse and Daniel slid out of the booth, Angie bubbled, “You kids have fun tonight!”

She reached out to shake Daniel’s hand, “Cary, it was nice to re-meet you when you weren’t scowling -- you take good care of my roomie, ok?”

“Definitely,” Daniel smiled, “Nice to see you again, Angie.”

As Angie turned to walk back to the counter, she called over her shoulder, “And Peg? I won’t wait up… but I’ll expect *all* the details in the morning.”

 

* * * * * 

 

Outside on the sidewalk, Peggy turned to Daniel and casually asked, “So… what was that all about?”

He smiled (*was* Peggy jealous?) and replied, “Angie and I came to an understanding,” before adding, in response to her raised eyebrow, “If I don’t treat you well, she’ll find me and hurt me – her words.”

Peggy groaned and lowered her head. “I’m so sorry, Daniel. You were such a good sport tonight, but I should not have introduced you to my wildly inappropriate best friend on our first date. I’m sorry I put you in that position.”

Daniel laughed. “Stop apologizing, Peggy… Really. Yes, Angie’s an absolute force of nature, but you’ve got a great friend there… Plus… I enjoyed seeing that side of you. It’s … different … from how you are in the office.”

Peggy furrowed her brow. “Different?” 

“Yeah…” Daniel thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “You’re always so professional and serious at work -- moreso than the men -- which I see now is probably, rightly or wrongly, the way you had to learn to act in order for them to take you seriously. But, when you’re with your friends, there’s also this really fun, funny, human side of you… and,” he shrugged and blushed with a dopey smile, “I like that a lot, too.” 

Peggy gave Daniel her largest wattage blushing smile. 

After a beat, he joked, “And, let’s not forget, Angie did nickname me after Cary Grant, so she’s gonna be forever ok in my book.”

Peggy rolled her eyes. “Perfect. Just what I need… the two of you working together as a united front.”

They smiled at each other for a few more moments, before Daniel broke the silence. “So… drinks?”

“Yes, please,” Peggy smiled, hooking her arm through his. “Did you have a place in mind?”

“There’s a good place I know in the Village. Do you like music?”

“Yes!” Peggy enthused, before adding quietly, “although… I don’t really dance anymore, I’m afraid.”

Daniel noted the sadness in the second half of her response. “Then, I’m your guy,” he smiled, tapping his crutch on the pavement, “because I don’t either.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two Notes:
> 
> 1\. This chapter is taking me longer to write than I would like, so I am breaking it up and publishing the portion that I have completely finished. 
> 
> 2\. Daniel is a dreamy, sweater-vest-wearing hep cat.

Exiting the cab as Daniel paid the driver, Peggy moved to the sidewalk and paused to take in the sights and sounds of the late spring West Village evening. Faint music filled the air from every possible direction, while the beeping of car horns and the “clinks” of plates and saucers on tables punctuated the dull, low sound-bed of conversation.

As the cab accelerated down the street, Daniel joined Peggy on the sidewalk. “I’ll apologize in advance for this sounding like a bad pick-up line,” he prefaced as they started walking, “but do you come to the Village often?” 

Peggy smiled. “I do, actually -- I quite like it down here. With the music and the coffee shops, it’s so… vibrant. It reminds me a great deal of Europe.”

“Do you miss Europe?” he asked softly.

She thought for a moment and then shrugged. “Sometimes. But there’s been so much destruction there… at the moment, I feel quite lucky to live here. It’s… hard enough trying to move on from the war… and things… without being surrounded by grey piles of rubble.”

“Yeah,” Daniel replied. “I can see that.”

He led them around a corner and down a narrow street before stopping in front of a tall chain-link fence covering the mouth of an even-narrower, dark, mid-block alleyway. Peggy watched, first in astonishment and then with increasing curiosity, as he pulled a key tagged “3” from his pocket and began to open the lock on the fence. 

When the fence was unlocked, he leaned against the door portion, swinging it backwards into the alleyway with his weight. Holding it open with his back, he gave her a smirky smile and motioned for her to proceed him into the darkened alleyway.

Peggy stood firm on the sidewalk and regarded him with a look of confused curiosity. “Daniel, you do realize that most women would find being led into a darkened alleyway, particularly on a first date, to be more than a little bit dodgy?”

He gave her a sweet smile. “Then I guess that’s one more reason why I’m lucky I’m on a date with you.”

She smirked. “I shall not be lured by flattery.” 

“I don’t need to lure you with flattery. You’re intrigued… I can see it,” he grinned devilishly. “Besides, we both know I’d be nuts to try anything… I’d end up in the hospital like those 6 SSR agents and, even worse, I’d have to answer to Angie.”

Peggy laughed and, despite the mixture of confusion and piqued interest that continued to play across her face, she strode confidently through the gate into the interior of the alleyway. As she did, her motion triggered an overhead light, whose faint illumination allowed her to look around the alleyway while Daniel closed and locked the gate behind them. 

As far as she could tell, it was just a regular, dingy alleyway, containing the types of things one would expect to find in such a place: dustbins, mostly unused backdoors to buildings, utility wires, and, overhead, a few clotheslines strung between buildings from which, at present, bed linens and towels were suspended. With all of it -- even the laundry -- seemingly dirty.

Daniel led them back the long alleyway, around a slight corner and then down a small, steep, non-descript set of stairs to the rear basement of one of the buildings. While he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of having Peggy see the difficulty with which he navigated these particular steps, he also realized that, under the circumstances, it would be unfair of him to ask her to go first. At the bottom, he pushed open the doorway, and, much to Peggy’s amazement, the next thing she knew, they were standing by the coat check in what appeared to be a dark, but nicely decorated club, while music wafted towards them from somewhere down the hall.

Peggy was still getting her bearings when a voice called out, “Daniel!” and she turned to see a beautiful young African-American woman -- Dianne -- emerge from the coat-check to give Daniel a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

“A lot less rainy tonight, I see,” Dianne remarked happily.

“Thankfully,” Daniel laughed, and then turned to Peggy to make introductions. “Peggy, this is my friend, Dianne Martin… Dianne, this is my date, Peggy Carter.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Peggy,” Dianne smiled warmly, extending her hand. “Welcome to our little club.” 

Peggy matched her smile as she grasped and shook Dianne’s hand and replied, “Likewise, Dianne. From what I’ve seen so far, it looks like a very special place.”

“Antoine will be so happy to hear that,” Dianne answered before taking their coats into the coatroom. When she returned to the window with a tag, Daniel tipped her, and she smiled widely. “Thank you so much, Daniel. I hope you both have a wonderful night.” 

“Thanks, Dianne, I’m sure we will,” Daniel grinned, before leading Peggy back the long, darkened hallway to the main room.

When they came to the host’s station at the end of the hallway and the bar, room, and stage became visible, Peggy’s eyes actually widened. She was in the midst of a hidden, seemingly private, tastefully decorated, diverse club in the middle of Greenwich Village, and Daniel – sweet, sweater-vest-wearing Daniel, who took so much abuse from their colleagues because of his injury – was the one who brought her here. Unbeknownst to *all* of them, he was a part of this world. 

Like Peggy, Daniel also had his secrets.

Daniel was enjoying watching her reaction – he doubted many things could elicit one like it from Peggy Carter -- when a voice boomed across the sound of the music… 

“Daniel!"

Daniel and Peggy turned to see Antoine walking towards them. 

“What d’ya say, gate?” Antoine smiled widely as he and Daniel shook hands and Antoine slapped him on the back. “But, more importantly, who is your stunningly beautiful lady friend?”

With Antoine’s arm still around Daniel’s shoulder, Daniel turned to Peggy and smiled, “Peggy, this is my friend, Antoine St. Clair… Antoine, this is my date, Peggy Carter.”

Antoine dropped his arm from Daniel and reached out to shake Peggy’s hand. But instead of shaking it, he brought it to his lips and kissed its back. “Peggy, it is an absolute pleasure. I hope my buddy Daniel here is showing you a good time tonight.”

“He certainly is,” Peggy replied with a warm smile. 

Daniel grinned, “That’s why I brought her *here*, Antoine.”

“Good… as a business owner and as a friend, that’s what I like to hear. Besides,” Antoine pointed at the stage and added with a laugh, “Your damn Thelonious is here tonight, Daniel. You know I only book that cat for you.”

Daniel laughed and shook his head. “The Bet is still on, my friend… The Bet is still on.”

Antoine grabbed a pair of drinks menus while mockingly grumbling something about having “never seen such a lazy piano player in all my life,” only to turn and give them a charming smile and a wink while stating, in a normal voice, “Let’s get you two a seat. You’re not here to spend the night talking to *me*.” 

He led them across the room to a booth in the back corner of the seating area, which was positioned so as to provide a full view of the stage, relative privacy from the rest of the room, and enough distance from the stage to allow for continued conversation during the performance. A silver plaque reading “Reserved” sat prominently in the middle of the table. 

After Peggy and Daniel were seated, Antoine handed them each a drink menu and explained, “Your waiter will be by in a few minutes to get you some drinks, and I’ll be back periodically to check on you, too. If you need anything – anything at all – just flag me down. And Peggy,” Antoine beamed and bowed, “I hope you have an enjoyable evening.”

“Thank you, Antoine,” she smiled, “I’m sure I shall.” 

“Hey, what about me?” Daniel joked to his friend.

“Daniel, between your exquisite date and your damn Thelonious, you’re gonna be fine,” Antoine laughed. “I’m not worried about *you*.”

Daniel shrugged and nodded, telling Peggy, “Yeah, Antoine’s generally pretty much right about everything.” 

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it,” Antoine reminded him with a laugh as he turned and walked away… 

… At which point, Daniel leaned in and whispered to Peggy with a smirk, “Except Thelonious.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Still breaking this chapter up into portions as I finish them. 
> 
> 2\. Daniel is still a dreamy, sweater-vest-wearing hep cat.
> 
> 3\. This chapter contains a special treat for indigowild. Enjoy!

Following the arrival of the martinis they ordered, Peggy moved closer to Daniel and put her hand on his arm. “Daniel… I must say that it takes a great deal to surprise me… but,” her eyes widened as she looked around the club, “what *IS* this place?”

“Why?” Daniel grinned. “Do you like it?”

“Like it?” Peggy enthused, still holding his arm, “I ADORE it. It was completely unexpected, but quite the intriguing discovery.”

“Well, then,” Daniel said, eyes twinkling, as he picked up his martini glass and held it so as to propose a toast, “To intriguing discoveries.” 

Peggy smiled affectionately at him and clinked his glass with her own. After they both took initial sips of their drinks and smiled at each other for another moment, Daniel continued, “I’ve known Antoine forever. We grew up together in Brooklyn – we bonded over music, even played in some instrumental combos together. For almost as long as I’ve known him, he’s wanted to have his own jazz club.”

“You play an instrument, then?” Peggy asked, leaning forward intently as she took another sip of her martini. 

“I play – or, rather, I *played*,” Daniel corrected, matter-of-factly, while patting his prosthesis, “– the drums. I was never very good... just did it for fun… so it’s no huge loss that I can’t really do it anymore. But how about you… do you play anything?”

Peggy shrugged. “Just a little piano – it was mandatory at my boarding school. But I haven’t played in years.”

Daniel nodded in understanding. “Antoine’s actually an amazing pianist… which,” he chuckled, “is why he’s so down on Thelonious.”

Peggy smiled over the rim of her glass and looked toward the stage, where the band continued to lay down a groove. “I can’t say that I understand Antoine’s disdain… I’m quite enjoying this music. It’s upbeat yet also somewhat mellow – I’ve not heard anything like it.”

“Exactly!” Daniel enthused excitedly. “I’m so glad you hear it, too. Antoine and I actually have a bet going… it may take 2 years, 10 years, or 50 years, but,” Daniel pointed to the stage with the finger of his raised drink-holding-hand, “Thelonious is going to be regarded as a genius one day. Mark my words.”

Daniel took another sip of his drink and observed Peggy’s smile as she watched the band for a few moments. When she turned back to him, she asked, “Did you and Antoine play in clubs like this?”

“Nah… we were still in school. We played a few dances, but, mostly,” Daniel laughed, “we just played in my parents’ basement.” Reflecting for a moment, he added, “I’ve always thought that Antoine wanted his own club so he could recreate the safe feeling he only ever really had there.”

Peggy glanced towards the host’s station and frowned with empathy for Antoine. “Is that why one needs a key to enter?” 

“Sort of,” Daniel smiled. “When he opened, it was just a regular club… but, because of the location and it being cheaper than the fancier clubs uptown, he had a lot of problems with drunken college kids. One day, he just decided that he had enough of them ‘busting his mood,’” Daniel chuckled, “so he made it a members-only club. And, believe it or not, it actually increased his business!” Laughing, he added, “People in New York love stuff like that… I keep telling him he should do something completely crazy next, like open a speakeasy in a water tower …”

Peggy laughed heartily, and, try as he might, Daniel couldn’t remember a time in which he had actually seen her laugh as hard.

“Anyway,” Daniel continued after several moments, “It’s not about exclusivity – there are no large membership fees or anything – it just a way for him to maintain a warm, family feeling to the place. Kind of a big clubhouse for his friends,” Daniel smiled. “Like my parents’ basement.”

Peggy smiled brightly. “It’s lovely that your friendship has influenced him in such a way.”

Daniel shrugged. “Well, he more than returned any favor I ever did for him… Antoine actually saved my life. During the war… when… I lost my leg. He and - ” Daniel stopped abruptly and a split second of panic crossed his face when it occurred to him that he was getting ready to say “Captain America.” “Well,” he recovered. “He and… this other guy.”

With the almost-admission, the vivid details of that day in Germany, his injury, Krzeminski’s words, and all of Daniel’s insecurities once again shot to the forefront of his mind, and his demeanor instantly changed. He quickly lowered his head in a shameful discomfort that, to anyone else, read like mere sadness.

Peggy noticed the change and, with a look of genuine concern, cautiously and gently asked, “Are you still in contact with the other gentleman?” 

Daniel suddenly felt unable to breathe.

“No,” he choked, tugging at his tie with one hand, “He’s… dead… now.”

Peggy continued to watch, with increasing concern, as Daniel became more and more overcome with anxiety with the passing of each elongated moment. Knowing the signs -- and that it was best not to try to touch him in such a state – she backed away slightly and said with as much warmth, kindness, and understanding as she could convey in her voice, “I’m so sorry, Daniel.” 

Which, for Daniel, only made it worse.

This could not be happening, he thought, as he raked his hand through his hair in a misguided attempt to catch his breath. *It could not*. Peggy should not be sitting here comforting *him* about the death of Captain America. If he was more of a man, he mentally chastised himself, he would tell her the truth; however, the last thing he wanted to do on their first date was bring up Peggy’s perfect, dead ex-boyfriend – or the fact that said perfect, dead ex-boyfriend saved his sorry-ass one-legged nobody life. 

Daniel scruntched up his eyes and shook his head quickly back and forth. “No… Not… one… who… deserves… it… Didn’t… even… know him.” 

He reached for his drink and downed the remaining half of its contents. The liquor shocked the anxiety to a halt, and he slowly returned to himself. When Peggy could see that the attack was mostly over, she scooted closer to him and began slowly rubbing his arm in silence.

Tie slightly undone, hair disheveled, and sweaty, Daniel dropped his head against the back of the booth and sighed, “I’m so so sorry, Peggy.” 

She looked at him in confusion. “For what?”

He laughed with a bitterness directed solely at himself. “For that little performance. It doesn’t happen very often anymore, but, of course, it would have to happen tonight. I’m… really sorry that you had to see it…. and… for marring your evening.”

“Nonsense,” she admonished him as, secretly happy to have an excuse to do so, she ran her hand through his hair to straighten it. “It most certainly did not mar my evening, and I’m glad I was here. Frankly, after all you’ve been through, it would be more worrisome to me if you didn’t have these types of experiences.”

Daniel raised his eyes and gave her a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Peggy. Maybe sometime I’ll tell you all about it. Just… not tonight, ok?”

She took his hand in hers and looked at him with a look that was a mixture of affection and residual concern. “I’d like that,” she said, rubbing her thumb against the back of his hand. “But only when you’re ready.”


	16. Chapter 16

After his panic attack, Daniel excused himself from the table to freshen up in the men’s room. When he returned to the table, Peggy took the opportunity to do likewise in the ladies room.

As she sat in the stall, the empty room buzzed around her. She had to admit to herself… she was having a good time. A really good time. Daniel was charming, funny, and full of surprises, and Peggy noted that she hadn’t had this much fun since that night in Belgium with the Howling Commandos and… 

Steve. 

*Steve*. His name hit her like a knife in the stomach… particularly because she realized it was the first time she thought of him all evening. 

Simultaneously, the emotions of sadness, despair, nausea, and guilt washed over her. It was happening… it was actually happening. Time was passing. With each second, it was taking him further and further away from her. Because here she was, constantly moving forward, apparently moving on, and leaving him behind. In the past. Where he would forever remain.

It hurt.

She dropped her head to her hands and groaned quietly in an attempt to expel the anguish she felt. While she knew that Steve certainly wouldn’t want her to endure a life of loneliness spent sacrificing her happiness to his memory, the realization that she hadn’t thought about him once all evening made her feel so… cold, betraying, and *awful*.

Maybe it was too soon. 

Maybe she shouldn’t be here. 

Maybe she should get her coat and leave.

As she stood and began adjusting her clothing, the bathroom door opened and the sound of heels clicked across the tile floor to a neighboring stall.

Peggy took another moment to try to mentally pull herself together – to try to quell her growing feelings of anxiety and claustrophobia at the imagined betrayal -- before exiting the stall. She washed her hands in one of the sinks, and, as she stood drying them with a paper towel, something on the end of the vanity by the door caught her eye.

It couldn’t be. 

But, as she saw when she walked over to it… it was. 

Her breath hitched in her throat as Peggy picked up the Captain America comic book in both hands. She was still standing there, staring at it -- wide-eyed and incredulous, like it was some sort of direct message from the heavens – when Dianne emerged from the stall moments later. 

“Oh! Peggy! So sorry for the mess,” Dianne sheepishly explained as she walked to a sink a few yards away. “But you know how it is…. Antoine is forever leaving his comic books around the club, and I’m forever picking them up and putting them back where they belong. Men. It’s like having a child that can buy you a nice dinner.” Dianne chuckled to herself before sobering. “Of course, I really shouldn’t complain. Antoine only became obsessed with Captain America after Cap helped him save Daniel’s life. We’re all so grateful to him for that. It’s such a tragedy that he didn’t make it.”

As the words began to register, Peggy slowly turned her head away from the comic book to stare at Dianne. “Captain America helped Antoine save Daniel’s life?” she asked flatly.

Dianne turned on the sink and began to wash her hands. “Yes. They had gotten separated from their unit, and, after Daniel was wounded, Antoine dragged him for miles through the snow. Antoine was so exhausted that he couldn’t go any further, but, fortunately, Captain America found them and got them back to the base before Daniel bled to death.”

Turning off the sink, Dianne shook her head sadly. “Antoine still feels like he failed Daniel… He’s wracked with all these ‘what-ifs’… ‘What if I had been able to go further?’ ‘What if Captain America hadn’t showed up?’ I’ve tried to make him understand that he shouldn’t focus on the ‘what-ifs,’ that his contributions were equally important, but he just doesn’t see it. He blames himself for the loss of Daniel’s leg, and he’s convinced that, if it weren’t for Captain America, Daniel would be dead.” Dianne turned to look at Peggy and noted the pale, gaping expression on her face. “Peggy, are you ok?”

Peggy closed her mouth and shook her head in an attempt to compose herself before covering, “Yes… yes. I-I’m sorry. I-I think the drink is starting to take its toll. I don’t know why it’s affecting me so.”

Dianne smirked, pulled a lipstick from her bag, and began to apply it in the mirror. “We serve pretty strong drinks here. With the membership system, Antoine wants to make sure his members are drinking here and not somewhere else.”

Peggy once again looked down at the comic book she held in her hands. She wasn’t sure if she should say anything, but if there was any way she could lessen Antoine’s pain… then she wanted to do so. And she knew Steve would want the same. 

“Dianne,” she hesitated quietly, “Not… not that it will likely make any difference to Antoine, but… I… knew… Captain America – Steve…”

Dianne stopped applying her lipstick, and, still bent towards the mirror with lipstick mid-air, turned her head, in shock, to look at Peggy.

“ -- and he would want me to tell you – and Antoine -- that everyone’s efforts and actions were equally important … that he could not have succeeded in doing the things he did without the help of everyone else involved.” Peggy’s eyes grew glassy. “Steve believed that very strongly.”

Dianne returned her lipstick to her purse, walked over, and hugged Peggy. 

“Thank you, Peggy,” Dianne smiled gratefully. “I don’t know who you are or where you came from, but I really hope that we’ll all be seeing a lot more of you.”

Peggy returned the smile warmly. “Thank you so much, Dianne. I-I hope so, too.”

Breaking their embrace, Dianne walked towards the door. As she reached it, Peggy called after her. “Uh, Dianne, if possible, I would appreciate it if we could we keep this conversation between us for the moment. Daniel … hasn’t yet told me the story of his injury, and I would just prefer for it to be something that he feels he can tell me in his own time, when he is ready.”

With her hand on the door, Dianne smiled. “It’ll be our secret until you tell me otherwise.” She pulled the door open slightly before turning back to Peggy, as an afterthought, and letting it fall closed again. “Daniel is a really great guy,” she added. “We love him a lot… and it makes me so happy to see that you’re looking out for him, too. Have a wonderful night, Peggy.”

“You, too, Dianne.”

Alone in the restroom, Peggy once again looked down at the Captain America comic book in her hands. 

“Thank you, Steve,” she smiled, before placing it back on the vanity and heading out the door and back to Daniel.

 

* * * * * 

 

As Peggy approached the booth, she saw Antoine standing at the end of the table talking to Daniel. She paused for a moment to watch the two men, with a new and deeper appreciation for their friendship and all that they had been through together -- and with Steve. 

And, in that moment, Peggy knew that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

“So, Daniel,” Antoine chuckled as, unbeknownst to him and Daniel, Peggy stood a few feet behind him, “Does that fine lady friend of yours know that your Army nickname was the Cat With Three Legs?” 

“No, Antoine…” Daniel replied in mortified whispered admonition, “And WE are not going to tell her, are we? Now would you shhhhh? She could be back any minute!”

Antoine laughed. “Daniel, as your best friend, it is my JOB to both talk up your selling points and to embarrass you. In this case, I have the incredible fortune of having that item of information, which will do both.”

Peggy slid into the booth. With an air of innocence masking her amusement – and, dare she admit, her intrigue – she asked, “Whose cat has three legs?” 

Daniel’s face turned the color of Red Skull’s as he shot Antoine a death stare. Antoine, for all his swagger, stuttered and answered, “Uhhhh… my, uh, l-landlady’s cat. Dianne and I… we…, uh, catsit for her sometimes. For, uh, the cat. I… uh, if you’ll excuse me, I have to… go. Charlie needs change.”

Antoine made a beeline for the bar, while Daniel remained bright red. Peggy grabbed her martini glass and took a sip. As she replaced it on the table, she leaned over, and said, “I see you also have a friend who likes to embarrass you.”


End file.
